


This Moment

by Ghost_in_the_Hella



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/F, Fluff, Hair Dye, alt!Chloe deserves all good things, alternate pricefield, pricefield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella
Summary: Max blinks and looks at her hands. Shit. She was supposed to put on gloves first, wasn’t she. She’d been so careful about taking care of Chloe, but she’d forgotten to pay any attention to herself. Most of the dye had rinsed off in the sink (Joyce was going to have a fit over that sink, not to mention the towels...) but her hands were still stained blue. “Oh, dammit.”“It’s a good look for you,” Chloe teases. “I’ve heard the ‘I just murdered a Smurf’ look is very fashionable right now.”---When Max Prime jumped back to her original timeline, she accidentally played matchmaker for her alternate timeline self.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, alt!Max/alt!Chloe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56
Collections: Chaos Theory Zine





	This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Alt!Chloe got such a raw deal in canon. She deserves all the love in the world, so here's some love for her.

Max still isn’t sure how she got here.

Less than a month ago, she’d been laughing with her Vortex Club friends at Blackwell one moment and sitting next to Chloe’s bed with tears drying on her cheeks the next. On that day, she’d been baffled to find herself in Chloe’s company when she’d been avoiding visiting her ever since her return to Arcadia Bay. Now, she’s only baffled that she’d wasted so much time without her.

“You’re staring again,” Chloe accuses with a teasing smile.

“Just making sure I didn’t mess it up,” Max lies. There’s no way she missed a single strand of hair; she was painstakingly meticulous in her application. She just… likes looking at Chloe. That’s all.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, hippie.” Chloe smirks. “Mom’s gonna flip if you got any dye on my chair.”

“I know,” Max says with a roll of her eyes. “That’s why I put the towel behind your head. As long as you don’t fidget, you won’t make a mess.”

She’d been scared, she realizes. They’d been so close before she moved to Seattle, and after she left she was scared they’d never get that back. And especially after Chloe’s accident, she feared that the Chloe she knew was gone forever. Now that they’re back in each other’s lives, she sees how ridiculous those fears were.

Chloe is Chloe. 

She’s not _exactly_ the same, of course. If nothing else, she’s nineteen now and surprisingly mature, no longer the gangly, awkward tween Max left behind. Time changes everyone, sooner or later. The dirty-blonde hair that used to run all the way down her back is now cut to her jawline. Max used to be so impressed by her long hair (she could never get her own that long and flawless), but she has to admit that the new look suits her really well. She can’t skateboard anymore, obviously, but she’s still a demon on wheels. 

Whatever else may have changed, Chloe’s still got the same vivid imagination and mischievous streak that got the two of them into trouble so often as kids. She’s still wickedly smart and funny. Her laugh still makes Max’s heart do a funny little somersault, even if the sound isn’t as robust as it used to be. She’s still so pretty Max’s breath catches in her throat when the light touches her just right. She’s still got the most ethereally blue eyes.

Chloe groans impatiently. “How much looooonger…”

“Dog, you’re like a fussy toddler.” Max glances at the back of the bottle. “Another twenty minutes, I think. Just to be safe.”

“Uggggggghhhhhhh, why did I let you talk me into this???”

If anything, Max is the one who changed the most over the past five years. It had been a very deliberate change. Calculated, even. It took her five years to shape herself into someone who could survive outside of her best friend’s shadow. And it only took three weeks for her to fall right back into herself as if she’d never left at all.

Honestly, it only took an hour. Once she’d recovered from the shock of finding herself in an unfamiliar setting with a nearly 24-hour gap in her memories and once Chloe had gotten over being furious with her over something Max genuinely had no memory of, the two clicked back into place as if they’d never been apart. As if Max hadn’t all but ghosted Chloe as soon as she left town. As if her closeted ass hadn’t been _relieved_ to move away from all of those weird, heart-fluttering feelings she had for best friend and start a new life in Seattle. Where - surprise, surprise - she’d eventually been forced to realize that Chloe wasn’t the _only_ girl who gave her weird feelings and that maybe running away from her wasn’t the same as successfully managing to run away from herself.

Chloe groans again. “My ear itches,” she complains.

“Which one?”

“My left. Could you…?”

Max reaches toward her but halts partway, startled by Chloe’s laugh. “What? What’s funny?”

“Dude, your hands!”

Max blinks and looks at her hands. _Shit_. She was supposed to put on gloves first, wasn’t she. She’d been so careful about taking care of Chloe, but she’d forgotten to pay any attention to herself. Most of the dye had rinsed off in the sink (Joyce was going to have a fit over that sink, not to mention the towels...) but her hands were still stained blue. “Oh, dammit.”

“It’s a good look for you,” Chloe teases. “I’ve heard the ‘I just murdered a Smurf’ look is very fashionable right now.”

Max huffs. “You want your ear scratched or not?”

“Yes, please.”

Casual intimacy always came more naturally to Chloe than it did to Max. She was always the one initiating contact: pulling Max into sudden hugs, grabbing her hand to lead her to the next adventure, throwing her legs across Max’s lap, bumping their shoulders together, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze when she could tell Max was upset. Max drank in the hundreds of small, tactile affections that Chloe showered her with, but she had usually been too shy and too conflicted about her own feelings to do much reciprocating.

It feels easier now. So natural that Max can’t imagine why it was so hard for her before. Working the vaseline onto Chloe’s ears and along her hairline to protect her skin from the dye. Massaging the sweet-smelling blue goop into her hair. Scratching her ear, still sloppy with vaseline and smudges of dye. Touching Chloe still makes her heart race, but that doesn’t frighten her anymore.

“Okay,” Max says as she pulls away and wipes her fingers absently on her jeans. “It’s probably set enough to rinse.”

“Awesome! So, Maximum Preparedness, you got a plan for how to wash this out?”

And, well, no. Which Max really should, since this whole thing was her idea from the start. She was the one who spent an hour picking out just the right color to make Chloe’s childhood dreams come true, the one who bought the dye and smuggled it into the Price house, the one who surprised Chloe with it (think you’re up for a new look, Captain Bluebeard?), the one who convinced Chloe’s parents to leave the two of them alone in the bathroom for hours. “Um.”

Chloe laughs breathily. “So _that’s_ a no.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief and her lips crook themselves into a wry smirk. Her voice drops into the suggestive tone she’s taken to using when she wants to make Max blush. “Max Caulfield. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“ _What_?” And there’s that blush, right on cue. “No way!”

“Mhm. This stuff is supposed to be washed out thoroughly, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“You gonna wash it out in my chair? With all my clothes on? Talk about making a mess.”

“I-I’m not--”

“So,” Chloe continues with a triumphant grin, “you’ll have to help me out of my chair and my clothes and into the shower. I don’t know about you, but I’ve _definitely_ seen that porn.”

A laugh bursts out of Max despite her embarrassment. “Dude! Shut up!” 

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Make me.”

Max’s heart skips a beat. She’s been kissed before. By her first boyfriend, by that girl she was in love with for a week in summer camp and never saw again, by that one guy at that one party, by her second boyfriend, by Victoria. The light in Chloe’s eyes right now, her playful tone, her flirtatious teasing; all of it feels like the seconds before a particularly welcome kiss. “W-what?” she stutters out awkwardly. Because maybe Max has been kissed before, but this is still _Chloe_.

This is Chloe, the girl Max was in love with before she knew that being in love with a girl was even a thing she was allowed to feel. It’s Chloe smiling up at her like an invitation. Like a request. It’s Chloe blushing - and Chloe _never_ blushes - and looking determined as hell even if her confidence is wilting just a little. “You heard me, Caulfield,” Chloe presses. The quaver in her voice wouldn’t even be detectable if Max didn’t know her so well. “What’re you, chicken?”

“I’m _not_ chicken,” Max promises.

“Then prove it. Kiss me. I dare y-- _mmfh_!”

It’s been just over three weeks since Max has had Chloe back in her life, and she’s still not sure how she got here: fingers tangled in hair still tacky with drying dye, savoring the warm press of Chloe’s lips finally, _finally_ against hers after too many years of distance between them. Maybe she’ll never know how she got here. And maybe that’s okay. 

Because whatever brought her here, whatever brought her to this moment - pulling away to check in and seeing Chloe’s eager smile, hearing her ask “Again?” and leaning in to grant her request - all Max knows is that she’s grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic I wrote for the Chaos Theory Zine. Be sure to check out other fic in the collection and pick up a copy of the zine if you can!


End file.
